


Is This What Strength Is?

by reluctantOracle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Repressed, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, dave doesnt know how to work through his shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluctantOracle/pseuds/reluctantOracle
Summary: Dave is very happy in his relationship. Karkat loves him very much and he couldn't ask for a better boyfriend. He loves him so muchKarkat loves him a little too much sometimes. And Dave can't explain out loud why.(Vent oneshot because what's more Strider than not talking about your feelings)





	Is This What Strength Is?

**Author's Note:**

> short n messy thing because i write instead of talk to who i gotta talk to xoxo

Karkat reached over to lace his fingers through Dave’s like he always did. They were sitting on the couch together, legs tangled and an empty bowl scattered with popcorn crumbs discarded on the coffee table in front of them. Karkat reached over to hold his hand, and Dave felt his entire body tense. 

It wasn’t that it was the first time it had happened. They’d been together for, what, almost a year? And they’d sat like this countless times together. He shifted a few centimetres to the right until he felt his hand release, and his boyfriend sat up and frowned. Dave swallowed. 

‘Pins and needles.’ He explained, lifting and shaking his arm as though to offer proof. Karkat nodded and settled back down. Mirroring him, Dave also attempted to slump backwards and focus his attention on the movie they had been watching. He couldn’t really remember the name of it- Red Something Something Flushes Something?- but it was colourful and romantic and sappy. It wasn’t anything he was particularly interested in, but Karkat adored it. Seeing him happy sent a warm feeling flooding through his chest. So he bit back the near-overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, and stayed silent. 

Ten minutes later, Karkat tried to put his head on his shoulder. 

He hadn’t meant to have such a physical reaction, but he jerked sideways and grunted almost before he realised what had happened. Karkat yelped and caught himself before he fell face first into the couch. ‘What the FUCK, Dave?” he exclaimed. “Is something wrong?’ 

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. There was something wrong. Something that made his skin feel tight, that curled heavy and unbearable in his gut. 

Karkat reached an arm out, and he jerked back again. ‘Holy fuck dude, you are all over me! Chill out!’ came the response. Karkat sat back, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed. 

What? No, that hadn’t been what he’d wanted to say. He didn’t mean that. He just didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want a hand on him, he didn’t want to feel so damn claustrophobic. Why did he keep trying to touch him? Why did he need contact every single second they were together? Wasn’t just being there enough?

‘Dave? What the fuck is the matter with you?’ 

‘Nothing!’ The words seemed to be coming out before he could police them. ‘Get off my back, I’m fine.’ 

‘All I wanted was some fucking affection dude, I didn’t stab your lusus.’ Karkat retorted. He got up and huffed, shooting him a pointed glare before turning and heading towards their bedroom. ‘Kar, wait…’ he began, then trailed off. The knot in his stomach tightened, and he settled for kicking the coffee table a little. It rattled. Holy fuck that was terrible. In terms of a situation, it really could not have gone worse. 

He knew Karkat had only wanted to be close to him. He wanted to be close to him a lot. Closeness seemed to be Karkat’s favourite way of expressing his feelings towards his boyfriend. Dave had always known this. 

Tonight had just gotten to be a bit. Much. 

Dave shut his eyes and lifted his shades so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t been raised for this. He hadn’t been taught what to do, what to say. 

_‘Do you know what strength is? Strength is not showing weakness. Do you know what weakness is? Emotion. Don’t you dare let me see you break.’_

The memory made him wince. It was from a long time ago, but he could feel the cool, smooth bathroom tile under his palms even now. The light flickered overhead; Bro had never bothered to get that fixed. His breath was fogging up the mirror as he spoke. He had slid his sunglasses over his face and taken a deep breath before letting his expression settle into something blank and empty and acceptable. He’d be strong for his Bro. He’d be strong for himself. 

Curled up on the couch in his apartment, Dave didn’t feel strong. He felt like he’d just snapped at his boyfriend for wanting a cuddle. It was a horrible mix inside him of guilt, anger, and fear. He imagined Karkat’s face pressed up against his chest and shuddered. 

_He imagined other hands on him. Larger than his boyfriend’s, and strong. Too strong. That’s what strength was. Dave had punished himself more than anyone else. He hadn’t been strong enough to fight it. There were hands on him, and it was all his fault._

The memories made him dig his fingernails into his palms until they burned. He didn’t want hands on him like that again. The heat of skin and breath brought tears to his eyes. He knew Karkat wasn’t like that, he honestly did. The touches offered were gentle, and kind, and loving. He knew that- he did. He knew that. 

His body, apparently, did not. He curled his arms around his waist and tried to breathe. Frustration threatened to burst through his throat. This wasn’t something people were meant to struggle with! He was meant to know how to feel things! Feeling things wasn’t something you had to learn! Right? And he knew Karkat would blame himself. If he explained, he’d think he’d done something wrong and get upset and Dave didn’t think he could deal with something like that, especially not now. If only he’d just realised sooner that being strong didn’t mean shutting out every-fucking-thing in the world, if only he’d not been so desperate to fit that impossible, terrifying mould, if only the only touch he’d ever known had been kind and gentle and loving. 

It wouldn’t even be that difficult to say. _‘Hey babe, I need some space, okay?’_ is all it would take. Karkat would be sulky for a while, but it’s not like he would be angry with him. He wouldn’t insist on a certain quota of affection per day. Probably. Or it might take more than that. It might take explaining, and stories he didn’t want to tell. Karkat might cry- or worse, pity him. The careful way he imagined the troll moving around him, as though he were suddenly fragile, made his skin crawl. Maybe not talking about what was wrong with him was the result of severe emotional underdevelopment, but hey. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with that. His boyfriend might think he was an asshole, but he could handle it. He could deal with anger. He knew anger like an old friend. Anger was the dance you learnt back when you were a kid for a school play and for some reason never forgot, the steps still coming as naturally to you as you did when they were first taught. Like something brutish and monstrous, anger was the only thing that made sense. Dave didn't want to feel like a monster, but he was pretty sure they also didn't understand the concept of empathy and compassion.

He breathed a shaky breath, almost laughing to himself. He’d sleep out here tonight. It would be all right in the morning, honestly. He just needed some time. Unlearning a lifetime of robotic apathy wasn't going to happen in the space of a single argument. 

He just needed some space.


End file.
